


Fantasy

by AirgiodSLV



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-05
Updated: 2006-05-05
Packaged: 2019-07-20 12:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16137449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: “What’s so impossible?” Dom asked with a shrug. “You’d just need some fake tentacles and stuff. Like I said, you’d have to use your imagination.”





	Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make this into one of my remaining AUs, but failed. Pseudo-tentacle porn for [](https://impasto.livejournal.com/profile)[impasto](https://impasto.livejournal.com/), because her AU didn't turn out quite the way I had planned, with thanks as well to her for the beta.

“Tentacle porn?”

Elijah hastily minimized the window, heart pounding from the shock of Dom sneaking up behind him, and snapped the lid of his laptop shut for good measure.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. “I was just…”

Dom’s smirk and the heat Elijah could feel on his cheeks made the rest of his sentence pointless, so he gave up trying to think of an excuse. Dom reached over his shoulder and opened the laptop again, and Elijah closed his eyes and prayed for the humiliation to be swift, and not last for weeks of jokes and comments.

He opened his eyes again as Dom popped the window up, and swallowed when the black-and-white cartoon filled the screen, a helpless girl bound and tormented by a creature that looked like it belonged at the bottom of a science fiction ocean.

“Not bad,” Dom murmured next to Elijah’s ear, and he tried to clear his throat so that his voice wouldn’t squeak when he spoke.

“I was just looking,” he said as nonchalantly as possible. “It’s nothing.”

Dom cocked his head, then tilted it the other way, and after a moment Elijah realized he was studying the picture from different angles. “It’s doable, I suppose,” he commented. “You’d just have to have a lot of imagination. But you could pretend.”

It took Elijah a moment to understand that Dom was actually contemplating a way to simulate actual tentacle porn. “It’s not for real,” he stuttered, trying unsuccessfully to push Dom’s hand off the keyboard. “It’s pretend, made up.”

“Still,” Dom said. “I could do it.”

Elijah blinked, but Dom’s confidence didn’t waver. “You…how would you even begin?” he asked, telling himself that he wasn’t seriously hoping for an answer, that he really didn’t want to pursue this, not at all. “There’s no way.”

“What’s so impossible?” Dom asked with a shrug. “You’d just need some fake tentacles and stuff. Like I said, you’d have to use your imagination.”

“It’s more than that,” Elijah insisted emphatically. He didn’t really know how to make Dom understand that the fantasy was simply unachievable, that the things he imagined in his mind and saw in the pictures were like nothing he had ever felt.

Dom raised an eyebrow.

“Well…the suspension, for one,” Elijah stated firmly. “How can you replicate that? The way it holds them up...” His eyes drifted to the image on the screen again. Dom was exploring now, clicking back and forth to other pictures.

“They make sex slings now,” Dom answered. “And you wouldn’t even need one of those, really. You could just use a hammock.”

“A…” It wasn’t the same thing at all, a warm gelatinous creature-body compared to a hammock. He decided not to argue in that direction, however, steering as far clear of his wilder fantasies as he possibly could, and settled on, “Where would you find a hammock?”

Dom scratched through the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “Give me a week.”

*

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Elijah grumbled, but it was mostly to cover his nerves and excitement over the fact that they were even trying it. The hammock was slung up in the empty garage, fixed in place by heavy hooks Dom had screwed into the walls yesterday morning. It looked ridiculous. Elijah _felt_ ridiculous.

“In you go,” Dom replied cheerfully, helping Elijah clamber gracelessly into the hammock. The ropes felt strange against his bare skin, a little rough, and he felt oddly exposed by the feel of air touching his skin through the wide supportive diamonds formed by the rope weave.

“This is stupid,” he muttered, face heating again, and Dom poked him in the back through one of the large holes.

“Close your eyes. Better yet…” Elijah barely had time to blink before Dom was pulling the blindfold around his head, knotting it securely in the back before pushing Elijah back down into the hammock. “Now lie still.”

“What are you doing?” Elijah asked, mostly-exasperated but with a tiny thrill of anticipation at whatever Dom had planned so carefully. “I still think…hey!”

The hammock jittered and tilted, and Elijah grabbed hold of the ropes at his sides for stability as he felt the edges of the hammock pull up and then wrap over his chest.

“What are you doing?” he repeated a little more wildly, and Dom grunted unhelpfully. Elijah tried to reach up and figure out what was going on, but quickly found that he was now completely wrapped in rope mesh and his arms were pinned at his sides. “Dom?”

“Part of the set-up,” Dom’s voice informed him from somewhere to his left. “You’re trapped in a fisherman’s net, that’s how it’s going to get you.”

“It?” Elijah repeated doubtfully, and then a bucketful of water was emptied over his bare chest.

“Hey!” he spluttered, but his flailing only rocked the hammock from side to side, nearly twisting him over before he caught himself and held on again. “Dom!”

“Relax,” Dom murmured, closer now. “Think of tentacles.”

“I’m wrapped naked in a fucking hammock and soaking wet,” Elijah returned acidly. “I can’t even tell you how turned on I am right now.”

“You’re not very good at fantasizing, are you?” Dom asked mildly. Elijah opened his mouth to retort and felt a finger push through a hole in the hammock to wriggle between his buttocks. It was cold, and wet…no, _slimy_ , soaked in lube and slippery against his skin.

“Oh fuck me,” he whispered, and the finger wriggled in, penetrating him easily. He arched to accommodate it, but the ropes constricted around him, leaving him no room to maneuver. The finger withdrew slowly and he exhaled, just starting to relax when it returned and wriggle-squirmed deep enough to make his cock twitch.

It could have been a tentacle, his brain mused distractedly while his body sang the praises of Dom’s clever fingers. He could be trapped in a net – he was, actually, totally enveloped – and that meant that this…tentacle…

Liquid splattered across his stomach, and he sucked in a breath, startled. Something slithered across his chest – _a hose?_ \- and whatever was on his skin pulled a little, wet and sticky. He inhaled deeply and caught the sharp scent of honey, but barely had time to process that before a suction cup landed with a soft puff of air against his ribs.

He thought for a wild moment about one of his favourite images, an orange-toned sea monster with octopus limbs and exquisite suckers on every one. “Fuck,” he whispered, and arched helplessly as the sucker pulled free with a pop only to attach itself to his nipple.

“Oh god,” he moaned, visions of flailing orange limbs filling his mind, and his other nipple tightened into a hard, agonized knot long before the second suction cup pulled free of the sticky mess on his stomach and covered it with a ‘pff’ of sound and sensation.

He hadn’t registered the disappearance of the finger until something pushed up to replace it, something cooler and harder and much slimier – a slim dildo, it felt like, but it wriggled like…

The tentacle sank deep inside, and he was panting now, cock hard and leaking, just waiting for the next surprise, the next shock of feeling to send his mind skittering off into fantasies. The tentacle inside him wriggled almost out and then thrust itself back in again, and he sobbed out a moan at the sensation it spiked through him.

Liquid trickled over him again, splattering on his chest and then a splash against his buttocks, making his hips jerk and the tentacle-intrusion stab deep. “Oh shit,” he whispered, “oh,” and then another tentacle pressed slowly between his parted lips, filling his mouth.

He moaned, and inhaled the scent of salt water and seaweed, like the kind Dom used when he made sushi. His tongue curled reflexively around the shaft in his mouth, and he _tasted_ seaweed, felt the slippery-slimy texture against his tongue. It wriggled further into his throat and he moaned again, sucking on it, just as the tentacle filling his ass squirmed and slid, impossibly slick, in and out of him until he thought he would go mad from the lack of friction.

He could see it now, huge and orange and curious, playing with him like a toy while he was bound and helpless, and fuck but it was getting him off like nothing ever had before. The double-penetration was pushing him out of his head, leaving it empty of anything but soft sucking and wriggling torment and the taste of salt-water seaweed.

The tentacle in his mouth jittered and he opened his mouth as water trickled in, choking him briefly as the tentacle pressed against his tongue, and he felt helpless and it was hot, fuck, he swallowed and the tentacle pressed against the back of his throat and he wanted nothing more than to surrender.

One of the suction cups lifted with a sticky pop, leaving his nipple tight and needy, and then a mouth – _sucker_ , his brain automatically corrected – closed over it and sucked, and he gave up all pretense of being unmoved and let out a long, low moan.

It was cold – _ice cube?_ \- and wet, and it sucked without focus, like it was just flexing on him without caring about his response, and that thought ratcheted his arousal up to a level nearly unbearable unless his cock got some relief soon. He thrashed weakly, rubbing his cock against the rough rope and crying out at the itchy pain-pleasure, and then the suction cup was back with a pop and he was dying, absolutely dying of need.

“Please,” he begged out loud, not sure if he was directing his pleas towards Dom or the creature, which waved a curious, bemused tentacle at him in his mind as he struggled. He didn’t even need the sensation now, he could _see_ it, feel its arms coiling around him and squeezing, feel the slime-sticky drag of suckers against every exposed inch of his skin as he wailed and fought it.

“Please fuck please,” he moaned, and a tentacle – cold, god, all of it was so cold – wrapped around his cock, squeezing curiously, which was all he needed for the world to go white behind his eyelids and explode into a million tentacle-dazzled pieces.

When the orgasm ebbed he felt cold, sticky, uncomfortable, and like he’d just had the best sexual experience of his entire life.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, and thought he heard Dom chuckle.

*

“Not going to work,” Dom mocked, spread out on the bed with his arms folded behind his head and a smug expression on his face. “Impossible to replicate.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Elijah murmured from the computer chair, rolling his eyes without glancing away from his laptop screen.

“The look on your face…the way you fucking _thrashed_ , Elwood, you should have seen yourself,” Dom crowed, fingers wriggling in glee.

Elijah took one last look at the picture on the screen, committing the image to memory, and slid onto the bed straddling Dom, dipping down to curl his tongue languidly into Dom’s mouth.

“Dom,” he murmured, silken purple tentacles dancing behind his closed eyes. “Shut up and fuck me.”


End file.
